My parents came to Fargo last night for the AC/DC concert. When people find this out, they usually think it's cool that my parents are into this music. But they always have been, because they were big when my parents grew up, and my parents are still young'ns (My mom is 44 and my dad is 43). My dad loves to see concerts. And my mom? Well, she'll do whatever my dad asks (I know, most of you can't picture Suz at an AC/DC concert).
Fargo was a mess of people last night. It took me nearly an hour to drive my parents from my on-campus apartment to the FargoDome for the concert. I knew we were in trouble when my mom says in the car, "You know, you can take my ticket, Lindsey." While I feel that would have been a blast, I decided against it. This was my parents' thing. Traffic was slow; there were volumes of cars, and even more people, obviously intoxicated, who were more worried about actually walking than whether or not cars were coming. Suz was not too happy when a group of them walked by our car, stumbling over every little bump in the road (both real and imagined).
I drop them off with a particularly loud group and tell them as long as they follow the drunks, nobody will hit them. I then went home for a relaxing evening of homework and facebook. My mom texted me the whole time. Unfortunately, she was not a happy camper. Our parents' friends had trouble getting through the traffic, and ended up being an hour later than they thought...bad news bears, since my dad had their tickets. So while my dad waited outside in the cold, my mom sat inside and people watched. Never a good thing for her at a rock concert.
I kept getting texts from her that read something to the effect of "There are way too many drunk people here." Convincing her to make friends with them was a feutile attempt on my part. But I tried. Apparently she didn't wanna be friends with the lady whose husband had to carry her to a garbage can, just in the nick of time before she started puking everywhere. But hey, don't judge. You know, it could have been a sudden attack of the flu. Suz didn't buy that. Oh well. I would also like to point out that while my mom is inside panicking, my dad is outside, starting rumors that AC/DC couldn't make it...but 32 Below is here! Note to self for next time: Drunk people don't like that.
So she texts me that their friends finally got in, and they were going to sit down. I thought that would be the end of their crazy escapades for the evening--at least that I was going to hear about as it happened. I was wrong. My mom was sitting on the end. It is never a good idea to put her next to a random, especially when the chance of them being sober is actually less than the chance of my mom being hammered.
Things went without a hitch for a while. 'Til the dude next to her asks her for (and I'm quoting here...I don't know the right word, especially when my mom couldn't retell the story correctly) wannie. It's loud in there so she shouts "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" at him. He repeats his request. Suz doesn't know what that is, and so she tells him. To which he looks at her like she is absolutely insane and says, "Marijuana...you know, like a joint?" Let's take a time out. We all know how my mom feels about alcohol. So you can imagine how she feels about illicit drugs. Not good.
Whatev. Okay. My dad convinces her she's fine. Yes, the guy next to her has been smoking pot. But a lot of people there were. She has been around pot before (this also was news to me...but I did forget that my parents also went to the KISS concert). My dad's friend snuck in 100 proof peppermint schnapps. I don't know how, since Dome security during a little football game is absolutely ridiculous (then again, I wouldn't know how to sneak pot in either). So my dad and his buddies are drinking this, passing it around, (passing it by my mom) and having fun. My dad's friend passes it to the blonde girl on his left. They don't know her, but she obviously looks like she needs some. She says thank you, takes a pull, gives it back.
Ten minutes later, she is sitting in her seat with her hands over her face. The guys she is with don't pay much attention to her. So she barfs all over the floor. And potentially the guy in front of her. That is much too much for my mother. She wanted to leave. But Blondie-Barfs-a-Lot left first, carried by the 3 dudes she was with down 3 flights of stairs. I pity those people who do custodial work in the dome. Gross. I also suppose you could say it was my dad's friend's fault. Oops.
By the time the concert is over, my mom is practically sprinting towards the car. She was really upset that I hadn't accepted her ticket. But hey, I think this was good for her. What's a little vomit between friends?
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